


a lie universally acknowledged

by sleeptalker



Series: ALUA verse [1]
Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:51:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1960920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeptalker/pseuds/sleeptalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the 74th annual Hunger Games, and Lizzie Bennet has the misfortune to be reaped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“The Hunger Games have been going on for 74 years now, Mrs. DeBourgh, and your father is the brilliant man behind them. How does it feel to know that your father’s creation still goes on, to this day?”_

_“Well, Richard, as I have overseen the games since – well, I was a child, really – it comes as no surprise to me that this effective system is still being used to this day...”_

The three Bennet sisters stared at the screen blankly. It was well after midnight, and they sat shivering under their pile of blankets, but none of them could get to sleep. Besides, it was their custom to stay up this late on the eve of the reaping – however much they disliked to admit it, they often did worry about the grave possibility of one of them being reaped.

And, this year, this possibility was even more likely to become a reality: Jane, as this was her last year, had put her name in 29 times; Lizzie, who was 16, had only put her name in 17 times, although this was still, at least in the minds of her family, far too much.

This year would be Lydia’s first, and Jane and Lizzie had begged with their parents to not allow Lydia to submit her name more than twice, as neither could bear the thought of their baby sister being reaped.

The aforementioned Bennet stifled a yawn, and Jane pulled her into her lap, stroking her hair. Lizzie’s eyes were still glued to the screen; and anyway, she’d never been very good at comforting people.

On the screen, Mrs. DeBourgh was still talking about her family’s legacy, wound as it were to the games.  Ricky Collins, the new host of the games, was nodding ecstatically, hung on her every word.

“Lizzie?” Jane said softly. Lizzie tore her eyes away from the TV.

“Yeah?”

“Me and Lydia are gonna go to sleep now, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah – I – of course!” Lizzie stammered. “I, um, I’ll just turn this down...” She gestured vaguely to the television, and Jane cast her a sympathetic look.

“Don’t stay up too late, okay? Everything’s gonna be fine, I’m sure of it.”

Lizzie nodded meekly, but inside, she had her doubts. This years’ games felt weird to her – it felt almost as though this year was going to be an important one... Like everything was about to change.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning of the reaping. Lizzie meets George Wickham, and stays at the Darcys' house for longer than she wishes.

As was her usual, Lizzie awoke to the overly-bright sun seeping through the cracks in her window. Bleary-eyed, she checked the time. It was only 5:30; she still had another 4 hours until she had to be home to get ready for the reaping.

She slipped on the long, muddy green coat Jane had made for her the month previously, hastily scribbled a note for Lydia (she was prone to waking up quite early on the day of the reaping each year) and crept out the door as quietly as possible.

Outside, all was silent. No one in their right mind was up at this hour, especially today. In the distance, the sun was still rising, and there was not a cloud in the sky – how ironic, she thought wryly, that today was such a bright day, considering that the next 3 months were going to be so miserable.

She set off on her journey, walking down the potholed streets, passing the houses with families not so unlike her own... Until she reached the end of the block of housing, closest to the large fence separating District 12 from the woods beyond.

_There it is_ , she thought bitterly, as she came to a halt in front of the large, Capitol-esque mansion. It was newly-built – only commissioned little over a year ago – although the inhabitants had been living in District 12 a lot longer.

It was the Darcy family, or at least what was left of them. They had been living in District 12 for as long as Lizzie could remember, but she knew them only from what she had heard around town, and distant memories of pre-school. And, of course, from their business. William Darcy ran the coal mines – the youngest manager they’d ever had. (His father had bought them a long time ago, but had since passed away under circumstances not disclosed by the Darcys to any member of the public.) Both of the Darcy siblings were rarely seen outside of the house these days – Gigi, the youngest, was rumoured to have gone through a terrible break-up, but the Bennet family, as well as most of the people in their right mind, knew that this could not be true.

Lizzie was one of the few people who saw the Darcys on a regular basis. She sold game to them, and brought it to their home specifically, with an explanation that they would rather not eat meat sold from the marketplace, regardless of how fresh and clean it was proclaimed to be. Every other day, after her morning hunting session, she would trudge up the long gravel driveway to the Darcys’ front door, knock, and await for William to come collect it. He would utter a vague-sounding “thank you”, hand over the money, and close the door before Lizzie had a chance to say anything other than a quick “you’re welcome”.

She scowled at the house once more before continuing on her way, and in just a few short minutes had climbed through the gap in the fence and set foot in the woods.

Lizzie grinned to herself. She loved the woods – it was where she felt most at home, and the company wasn’t too bad either, in her opinion.

Until winter that year, there had only been one a few hunters in District 12, and Lizzie was by far the best. Her meat was sold in all of the best market stalls, and it was known for being the cleanest and the best.

But then, she had noticed some competition. At first, it was just whispers around town, and she had thought nothing of it, but then she met him for the first time. George Wickham.

She’d expressed surprise at his being in her part of the woods – the other couple of hunters stayed away from her, and often hunted at night. He’d apologised, smiled politely at her, and asked if she would like him to leave. But there was something in the way he smiled, and Lizzie had to admit that she could get lonely in the woods at times, and she had allowed him to stay – to hunt with her, even, if he wanted. He grinned, and stuck out his hand, which she shook, and they had since then went into business together, hunting in the mornings and dividing the meat between the market stalls in the afternoon. It made the whole thing more fun, really, and together they produced twice the meat they would each normally have produced, and delivering it in the afternoons was so quick that they often were done by lunch. They’d half the wages between them, and after that, they just... Hung out. In the woods. Alone. (Lizzie would be lying if she said that nothing happened between them.)

She was pulled out of her reverie by a hand on her shoulder, and the familiar words: “Hey, peach.”

Biting back a grin, she answered without turning round. “You’re late.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I got... Caught up.” He kissed her lightly on the head, and she finally turned to meet him, grin plastered to her face. The mornings spent with George made her forget about the Games, and even the trouble with her family, and it was as if they were the only people in the world. (A thought that she would fiercely deny if ever asked outright.)

“It’s fine.” She said softly, and he pushed a lock of hair behind her ear before leaning down to kiss her.

“I know,” he murmured against her lips. “But it’s really time to start hunting now.” And with that, he reluctantly pulled away.

“Okay,” she sighed, and set down her bag, pulling out her kit. George done the same, and grabbed her hand. Lizzie smiled and tried to hide her blush.

* * *

 

They finished by 7, and delivered the meat to the marketplace in under an hour: record time, considering the circumstances. George suggested sitting at the top of the hill for an hour before they part ways, as they wouldn’t see each other again until the reaping, and Lizzie was only too happy to oblige.

They sat there in silence for a long while, watching the sun slowly climb up the sky. From the hills, they could see over the entire district, and it was bittersweet to watch the place wake up, as it were.

George started drawing lazy circles on Lizzie’s thigh, making her lose focus for a few minutes, taking her mind off of the impending reaping that was going to take place in just a few short hours. She was very grateful for this, as any moment not spent with George that morning was spent worrying about her sisters, Lydia in particular. It was her first reaping after all, and although she rationally knew that there was no way she could possibly be reaped, it really was eating away at her. Lydia was quick, and extremely agile, but she couldn’t survive in the Games. She frequently argued with Lizzie (not so much Jane, as her sweet demeanour made it impossible to be angry with her,) but deep down, Lizzie knew that she detested conflict; she certainly wouldn’t last a day.

It was far more likely that Jane would be reaped, considering the fact that her name was in so many times. Lizzie thought that perhaps Jane _could_ win the Games; she was smart, and she was 18, and Lizzie had no doubt that she could fight if it came down to it, but... Jane wouldn’t kill. Only murderers won the Hunger Games.

She was starting to panic, and George must have seen, for he rescued her from her thoughts once more.

“My name’s in 32 times, this year.” He murmured sadly. Lizzie immediately felt guilty. She hadn’t spared one thought to George, and she knew that he was in more financial trouble than she was, so it was obvious that his name would be in more than once for the reward.

“George, I... I don’t know what to say...”

“It doesn’t matter...” he shrugged, and took his hand away from her thigh. “It makes sense that you’d be more worried about your sisters than you would be about me.”

“No – George, that’s not the case at all...” He shot her a disbelieving look. “I guess it is.... I’m _so_ sorry. Really I am.” She reached for his hand, pulled him into a hug... She hated seeing that wounded look on his face; he’d always told her that she was one of the few reasons he still enjoyed life, and she knew that he had a troubled past.

He’d told her shortly after their first kiss. It was a cold yet sunny day, and he’d kissed her on that very hill, and then finally told her all about what those _Darcys_ did to him. How they refused to take him in after his mother died, even though their father promised to before he died, how William Darcy, his old best friend, denied him crucial money and shelter, how he tried to appeal to Gigi who was historically kinder than her brother, but found her to be the exact same. She’d felt so sorry for him, and his story just confirmed her belief that the Darcys were some of the worst people to ever walk the Earth. She’d almost stopped selling to them, but they paid too much... It would be difficult for her to make up the loss, even George agreed. She and George just contented themselves with spitting in their food and charging them double the usual price.

He patted her back, and released her from the hug. “I know you’re sorry. I forgive you.” And then he was kissing her, and Lizzie found that she just couldn’t get close enough. He pulled her flush against him, and she moaned against his lips. Her hands found their way to his hair, and he cupped her face, deepening the kiss. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but when she opened them, she became aware of what they were about to do, and where they were... She was in his lap, and willed her hips to stop moving against his, before reluctantly pulling away.

He looked hurt, but she knew he’d understand. “I-I’m sorry, it’s just... I can’t. Not today.”

“I get it.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

They stayed on the hill for another half hour together, enjoying each other company, until Lizzie decided it was time to go home.

“I need to get ready.” She explained, packing up her bag. “And stop Mom from having a heart attack. She’s been freaking out even more this year since it’s Lydia’s first.”

“I’ll get going, too, then.” He replied. “I’ll get my suit on-“ Lizzie hummed appreciatively, and he waggled his eyebrows at her.

“I’ll see you there, then.” She smiled, and leaned up to hiss him again – this time, thankfully, keeping control of herself.

“I’ll see you there,” he grinned once more, and quipped: “in my _suit_.”

Lizzie laughed as she made her way down the hill.

* * *

 

As per usual, she stopped by the Darcy house before heading home.

“Who is it?” The eldest Darcy asked over the intercom. He sounded distracted, and Lizzie could hear another man’s voice in the background, which was weird, since he never got visitors, and had no friends to speak of.

“Elizabeth Bennet.” She muttered back, rolling her eyes. She was surprised that he understood what she said.

“I, uh... Got it.” He stuttered back, and she heard a couple of clicks before the gate swung open.

She weighed the package of meat in her hands as she walked up the driveway. From her judgement, it was slightly less than usual – she and George didn’t use scales after all – but besides: it was the Darcys, they didn’t deserve what they wanted, anyway.

She raised her hand to knock at the door but was met by it being forcefully pushed open. It hit her hand, barely grazing her knuckles really, but the eldest Darcy apologised stiffly and insisted on her coming in so that ‘his friend’ could check it out. Privately, she was certain that he had hit her with the door _on purpose_ simply so he could get her into the house and he could brag about it.

“After you.” He said, awkwardly holding the door open behind her. She saw no way out of it, so she walked past him, not looking him in the eye.

“Where do you want me to put this, exactly?” She asked, gesturing to the package she held.

“Oh, um,” Darcy replied, and took it from her. “I’ll... Just put this away.”

“No, it’s fine.” She answered through gritted teeth. “I can handle it, I’m not that weak.”

“No, honestly. Please, make yourself comfortable in the drawing room, and I’ll get Bing to check out your hand.”

_Bing?_ She thought. _Surely not_ that _Bing._

Bing Lee was one of District 12’s few qualified doctors. As a result, he had quite a lot of money, but he didn’t flash it about like the Darcys did – he done a lot of charity and aid work, and had helped Lizzie, herself, out a couple of times.

Her mother loved him... Because he was dating Jane, as of a month.

They’d met when their father had gotten in a bad accident on the other side of the District. He had a large cut on his leg, but thought it was nothing he couldn’t handle, therefore he went about his week as usual. Eventually, Mrs. Bennet got so worried that she called Bing round, who found that the wound was infected. He gave him some bandages and antidotes, and Jane wanted to help him. They got talking, but it wasn’t thought of as serious until he started paying non-medical related visits to the Bennet household, and, after a full day spent alone together, Jane announced that they were dating.

Mrs. Bennet was beside herself with happiness. It was her dream to have her children married securely as soon as they were adults, which in Jane’s case was coming soon. Money was tight with everyone in District 12 (excluding the _Darcys_ , of course)but it was particularly rough for them, hence why Jane and Lizzie’s names were in so many times. Mrs. Bennet wanted them to be taken care of; she loved them, in her own way.

So it was a shock for Lizzie to see _Bing Lee_ , a perfectly nice person, drinking tea in the Darcy drawing room.

But it apparently was not a shock for him. “Lizzie!” He greeted her. “I’m so happy to see you, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has.” She leaned awkwardly against the doorway, not wanting to sit down, but Bing had other ideas.

“Come, sit.” He scooted over, making room for her on the couch. She sat, back as straight as possible.

 “So, Lizzie, what brings you here? Only I wasn’t expecting you...”

“Neither were I.” She shook her head, then offered him her hand. “Darcy – William Darcy, that is, told me to let you check my hand out.”

“Oh...” he murmured, turning it over in his hand. “It doesn’t seem too bad. I’ll put a bandage over that cut, though.” He pointed to an older gash on her wrist, something she had acquired while hunting this morning but hadn’t thought too much of. Before she could protest, Bing was wrapped a bandage around her wrist and shoving another wad of bandaging into her hand, with instructions to change it every day until it healed.

“What happened to your hand, anyway?” He asked casually, shifting to face her.

“Darcy. He pushed the door open just as I was about to knock.” She couldn’t resist insulting him like that in front of Bing.

“That’s unfortunate,” Bing replied, chuckling slightly. “Um... How’s Jane? I’ve not seen her in a few days.”

The way he mentioned her made Lizzie suspicious. He said it too casually, as if he had been talking about her before Lizzie came in and was worried she’d read too much into it.

“She’s good.” She said, smoothly.

Bing opened his mouth to speak, but just then Darcy walked in, and he immediately silenced. _He must be a really good friend if he worries Bing just by walking into the room._ Lizzie thought. She made a mental note to relay this whole encounter to George when she would see him the following day.

“Bing.” He said, scanning the room. “Isn’t Gigi here yet?”

“No,” Bing pointed upstairs. “She went to her room when you said Lizzie was coming.”

“Oh.” He paused before continuing, “I’ll call her.”

“That’s really not necessary!” Lizzie assured him, a little too forcefully.

“It’s no problem.” He took a step out of the room, then turned to the stairs and shouted: “Georgiana Darcy, you cannot hide up there forever!”

Lizzie felt a pang of sympathy for Gigi. She knew how insufferable she was, George had told her, but it must have been a pain growing up with a person like _William Darcy_ as your brother. There was no noise after a couple of minutes, and Lizzie hoped that perhaps Gigi wouldn’t come down and she could make her escape, until she heard some shuffling and banging down the stairs.

The Darcy siblings’ arms were linked as Gigi came into the room, some 5 minutes later. Lizzie was sort of surprised, to say the least. She hadn’t seen Gigi at all since she and Lydia were in their pre-school play together. (A re-enactment of _The Saviour of Panem,_ when the late father of Catherine DeBourgh had killed the rebels and become President.)

Now, Gigi looked entirely different. Her dark hair used to be long, down to her waist as least, but now it was very short, up to her chin. She was definitely growing into her Darcy traits: the long nose and legs, the high cheekbones. She looked older than her age. Lizzie guessed that she was 13 at most, but she was very tall and had old, sad eyes. 

Darcy guided her to the over-stuffed armchair by the fireplace. She slumped half-heartedly down into it, directing her gaze to Lizzie and Bing.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Gigi said, breaking the silence.

_Obviously Darcy can’t stop ranting about how stupid I am, or something._ Despite her thoughts, Lizzie smiled politely at the younger girl. After all, she hadn’t been paid yet. “Good things, I hope.”

“Always, of course.”

The silence came back again. Lizzie swore it was Darcy’s fault – he made everything awkward just by his presence. Why couldn’t he just act like a normal person, as opposed to some stuck up idiot all the time? (Which Lizzie was certain he _was_ , but he didn’t have to make it so blatantly obvious all the time.)

They were all silent for another few minutes, until Darcy took it upon himself to actually act like a proper host, and offered to get them all drinks.

“No, thank you.” Lizzie chipped.

“Are you sure? I have the kettle boiled for tea, although I suppose... It is of my understanding that you prefer coffee, or at least that’s what Bing said.”

Lizzie arched an eyebrow at him in response.

“Not... Not that we were talking about you, of course, merely of Bing’s regular excursions to your house, it just, uh, came... up.” He finished lamely.

Lizzie fought back the urge to laugh, and instead stood. “Um, thank you for your hospitality. Bing, Gigi... Darcy. But it is getting late, and what with the day it is, I really gotta get going...” She stopped to stand at the door, waiting patiently for her pay so that she could finally leave.

Darcy, of course, didn’t get the hint. He just stared at her, as though she was a traffic accident he couldn’t pull his eyes away from.

“My pay?” She asked expectantly, prompting him.

He looked startled. “Oh – Yes. Sorry. Gigi, could you...?”

“Yeah.” She sighed heavily as she fished around in her pocket before retrieving enough money for Lizzie’s wage. She handed it to her, shot an annoyed look to her brother, then flopped back down into the armchair.

“This is too much.” Lizzie said, after quickly counting it. She separated the change and made to hand it back to her.

Gigi shook her head. “Keep it.” She murmured softly.

“You deserve it.” Darcy added, “for working on this day.”

Lizzie was confused, but decided not to question it. _Money’s money_. _And we sure do need it._ She managed a smile to the room at large before letting herself out the door and running down the gravel driveway, all too eager to get home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the most words I've ever typed in one setting.   
> The reaping is next!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the Reaping, and Lizzie has a nasty shock.

Lizzie could hear her mother’s shrieks virtually as soon as she turned the corner to their street.

Upon coming through the door, she only saw a flurry of red hair before Lydia pounced on her, knocking her sideways into the wall and pulling her into a fierce hug.

“Hey,” Lizzie greeted as soon as Lydia released her. “I’m sorry I’m late, I just got caught up at the Darcy house-“

“Yeah, never mind that. You’ve _got_ to see the dress Jane made you. It’s so cute!” Lydia exclaimed, excitedly. She reached for her sister’s hand, dragging her upstairs to their shared room.

“ _Lizzie Bennet_!”

“Shit.” Lizzie muttered as she spun round to face her mother, one foot on the stairs. Lydia froze in front of her, dropped her hand, and scampered up the stairs, away from Mrs. Bennet’s wrath.

“You’re late.” She observed. “I hope, for your sake, that you have a good explanation for this.”

“I got caught up at the Darcys.” Lizzie explained impatiently. “I just wanted to deliver their stupid meat then go home, but Darcy hit my hand with the door and invited me in so Bing could take a look at it. And then Georgiana came down, and-“

“Wait, did you say _Bing_? As in _Dr_. Bing, Jane’s suitor?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mom. He’s a friend of Darcy, apparently.”

“Nonsense!” Mrs. Bennet gasped, as though she had just heard the news of the century. “Why, I was under the impression that that _Darcy_ family didn’t _have_ any friends... Or at least, that’s what Linda told me, next door, although Doris across the road did say something different...”

“Yeah, well. They do now.” Lizzie interrupted, not wanting her mother to go off on one of her tandems about the latest gossip. “Can I go get ready now?”

“Oh... Oh! Yes, yes dear, of course.” Mrs. Bennet was flustered, but wandered into the kitchen and left Lizzie alone. Lizzie was halfway up the stairs when she heard her mother nagging Mr. Bennet to finish his breakfast so she could wash the dishes. Lizzie did feel sorry for Mrs. Bennet. She knew that deep down she hated Reaping Day, and especially now, since all 3 of her daughters were of age.

Lizzie shook the thought out of her head, trying to focus on the whispers she could hear from behind her closed bedroom door.

“Yeah,” Lydia was saying, “She said she was at the Darcys but, _come on_! We both know she was too busy making out with _George_.”

Jane shushed her good-naturedly. Lydia kept giggling.

“Hey, she might hear you.”

“So?! She knows we know about her and George Wickham. They’re not exactly discreet; I’ve caught them playing tonsil tennis more than once when I’m walking home from school...” Her sentence was interrupted by a loud spurt of laughter from Jane. Encouraged by this, Lydia went on: “And I can’t really blame her, you know, ‘cause he’s totally hot. I’m proud of nerdy Lizzie, managing to catch someone like him, and-“

“Excuse me?” Lizzie said breezily, opening the door and shutting it quickly, lest her mother decide to come see what all the fuss was about.

“Nothing-“ Lydia said at the same time as Jane’s “We were just talking about George-“

“I know, I know. I could hear you through the door.” Lizzie admitted.

“I thought eavesdropping is rude.” Lydia said smugly – it was a phrase Lizzie had told Lydia more times than she could count. Particularly about things to do with George.

“Yeah, it is, just-“ Lizzie sighed exasperatedly and gestured to the pile of dresses stacked on Lydia’s bed. “Can we just get on with this?”

“Yes, of course!” Jane exclaimed, jumping up and retrieving the dresses. She handed Lydia hers first, to which Lydia made a high-pitched squeal of delight. It was pale pink, with a white collar. Lizzie was thankful that Jane hadn’t actually gone with any of _Lydia’s_ ideas for her dress. She had wanted a more grown-up style, with a higher skirt and lower neckline. Lizzie had shuddered at the thought of her baby sister going out for Reaping Day like that. She’d be ogled by the older boys, and perhaps a few men.

But the dress Jane had made her was far more suitable for her age, and had a just-above-the-knee length skirt, just to comply with Lydia’s wish that she had a skirt that _“didn’t make her look like a total prude”._

Jane handed Lizzie hers next – and she was in love. It was grey, and flowery, with a little window at the small of her back. The fabric was smooth, not rough and itchy like most of her clothes. (Fabric wasn’t cheap in District 12, so people tended to just recycle older clothes into newer ones; so by the time the clothes were sold on the market, the fabric was washed out, and stiff.)

“Jane... It’s lovely. But where did you manage to get this fabric?” Lizzie asked worriedly.

“Bing’s sister... Caroline.”

“Wait, did you just say _Caroline?_ As in _Caroline Lee_?” Lydia exclaimed, dropping her dress to her lap.

Caroline Lee was one of District 12’s few Victors. She’d one the Games 5 years back, when she was just 14. She totally charmed most of the people of the Capitol, as well as Ricky Collins, who recommended her to Catherine DeBourgh. Catherine thought her a “very accomplished, well-rounded young woman.” She kept in touch with a lot of the contracts she had from the Capitol, and eventually submitted DeBourgh a few designs for clothes and furniture. DeBourgh was impressed, and offered her a job in the Capitol as a designer.

“Yes...” Jane said distractedly, not looking up at Lydia. “I have told you that, right?”

“No!”

“Yes, I did... I told you that I’d met Bing’s sister.”

“You didn’t say it was Caroline Lee!” Lizzie laughed, shoving Jane lightly on the shoulder, who smiled sheepishly.

“I’m sorry. I guess I just got too caught up in talking about Bing all the time.”

“You can say that again...” Lizzie muttered, and picked up her dress again. “Do you mind if I go change?”(Lizzie, unlike her sisters, had just never felt comfortable changing in front of other people, even her family.)

“Yeah, sure.”

She headed towards the large sheet by her bed, changing as quickly as possible. The fabric felt nice against her skin, it was silky and softer than any of Lizzie’s usual clothes. The opening at the back felt strange at first, but she soon was used to it. After a couple of minutes spent marvelling at the dress, she was ready and stepped out from behind the sheet.

“Lizzie, you look so great!” Jane smiled.

“Yeah, you look _totally hot_ , George will love you.” Lydia yelled excitedly, and Jane put a hand on her knee to try to calm her down.

“Thanks...” What Lydia had said had bothered Lizzie slightly. Looking “totally hot” wasn’t really her thing, and she didn’t like the fact that George would like her more just because she put on a pretty dress. And... Love? George didn’t _love_ her, did he? Oh God, what if he did? Did Lizzie love _him_? She felt something, and it was certainly unlike anything she had felt before, but-

She shook her head. Those thoughts could wait until after the Reaping. They could talk then. (They never really did much talking, in the woods.) She would see him at her neighbourhood’s annual Reaping Day after party, where everyone celebrated not being Reaped, and spared thoughts and condolences to the family of the two children who were.

With her mind set on that fact, she was able to just sit and enjoy the moment of happiness with her sisters as they congratulated Jane on her dress-making abilities. 

* * *

“Mom, we’re going to be late!” Lizzie called into her parents’ room. Mrs. Bennet was fine until she saw her daughters in their Reaping Day dresses, and then had burst into tears, running into the room and complaining about ‘her poor nerves’.

It happened every year, but Lizzie didn’t like to be late to events.

Mr. Bennet smiled knowingly and followed his wife into the room. In just a few minutes he walked out again, motioning to his daughters for them to get ready to leave.  Mrs. Bennet emerged soon after, and Lizzie noticed that her face was only slightly tear-stained. 

* * *

Lydia squeaked when the Peacekeeper pricked her finger for sample. He just glared at her, scanned it, and then told her shortly to “move along.”

 Jane held her hand up until the point where the Peacekeepers drove Lydia to the opposite side of the space, towards the large group of worried, fidgeting 12-year-olds, where she attempted to make conversation with a girl she knew from school.

Lizzie and Jane shared a hug before they were forced to go stand in their designated age groups. Jane pulled back, holding her sister’s hands, and looked sincerely into her eyes. “Don’t be worried.”

“I’m not!” Lizzie scoffed.

“I know...” Jane sighed heavily. “I think that’s probably the worst thing to do right now.”

“Would you rather I turned into Mom and had a-“ But Jane was gone, dragged off by some impatient Peacekeeper. Lizzie frowned and headed over to her area.

Panem’s anthem began, and District 12’s escort walked slowly across the stage. She was old (or at least older than anyone in District 12) and always looked grim and stoic. Her name was Dr. Gardiner, but no one knew why.

“Hello, everyone.” Her voice was crisp; wooden. “You all know why you are here today, so I shall waste no time in telling you. It is almost time to choose the two young adults that shall represent this District in the 74th annual Hunger Games. But first, the film.”

Lizzie tried to catch George’s eye as the film started to play. He rolled his eyes, and Lizzie shot a half smile back.

_“and then the rebellion began...”_

After a moment, Lizzie hesitantly turned to look over at George again. Once he could see her, she mouthed “You okay?”

He nodded in response before watching the screen again. Lizzie couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right – that George _knew_ something wasn’t right, but didn’t want to tell her. However, she filed it away as a silly nervous thought. She and George shared everything; there wasn’t a thing about each other that the other did not know.

_“Panem today... Panem tomorrow... Panem forever.”_

There was feeble applause when the video ended; most people (Lizzie included) just wanted the Reaping to be over and done with so they could go back to their lives.

Dr. Gardiner waited a moment, and then nodded curtly. “And now for the tributes to be chosen.” She shuffled over, dragging her feet, to the globe containing the females’ names. She stopped in front of it, straightened her posture, and reached in, her hand digging deep into the ball.

There was a total hush over the audience as she took a slip of paper out. Unfolding it, she squinted and read aloud in a prim, clear voice: “Elizabeth Bennet.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The male tribute is chosen, and Lizzie has visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I raised the rating to M just to be safe, as in this chapter it gets a little graphic.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion. Lizzie lost control of her own body when a Peacekeeper took hold of her arm, roughly pulling her through the crowd and towards the stage. She was vaguely aware of someone crying in the background, but didn’t dare to take her eyes off of the ground in front of her.

Suddenly she was on the stage, and Dr. Gardiner had her hand on her shoulder. Lizzie managed to drag her eyes up, staring into the crowd, searching for any familiar face. Her eyes locked on Lydia’s, and she noticed that she was the source of the crying.

“I’m sorry.” She mouthed, and felt herself on the verge of tears. Dr. Gardiner squeezed her shoulder, returning her to reality.

“Do we have any volunteers for this Elizabeth Bennet?” Gardiner asked dryly. Lizzie immediately caught Jane’s eye, and shook her head. Jane brought in the most income out of the family, and she was old and wise enough to care for Lydia and their parents. Jane nodded, but cast her eyes down: she understood (as Lizzie thought she would) but wasn’t happy about it.

Nobody raised their hand, and Lizzie felt weirdly offended, (she wouldn’t have wanted anyone to, but the prospect of actually participating in the Games was more terrifying than anything she’d ever faced in her life.)

Mrs. Bennet was wailing at the sidelines, but Lizzie couldn’t bear to look at her. She pushed her chin up, focusing on a spot above the crowd and trying to keep it together until she was allowed to see her family again.

Dr. Gardiner took her hand off of Lizzie’s shoulder, shooting her one last sympathetic look before shuffling over to the male names globe.

She did it a lot quicker this time, just taking one from the top. It was haphazardly rolled, and Gardiner squinted to make out the name.

“Daniel Nancy.”

No one stood.

“Daniel Nancy?” Gardiner repeated, confused.  Lizzie looked down into the crowd, figuring that she might as well know who she was going to be faced against, and then her stomach dropped.

A small boy was being dragged roughly to the stage by an impatient-looking Peacekeeper. He had been taken from Lydia’s group – the youngest, the 12 year olds. He was scrawny, and short, with bony elbows and knees.

Suddenly, Lizzie felt unbelievably sick. She was supposed to fight and kill this boy.

He staggered up to the stage with the help of the Peacekeeper, standing next to Dr. Gardiner. Her hand was perched on his shoulder, and she forged a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Are there any volunteers for Mr. Nancy?”

A hand shot up, followed by a deep, clear voice: “I volunteer!”

Lizzie was too busy being relieved that Daniel Nancy was free to go that she did not notice the new tribute until it was too late.

William Darcy emerged from the group of 18 year olds, marching steadily towards the stage. The Peacekeeper merely followed behind him, as he did not appear to need to be persuaded.

He climbed to the stage, immediately going to Nancy, whom he clapped on the back firmly. Dr. Gardiner shot a look to Nancy’s Peacekeeper, who roughly took the boy’s arm and lead him back to his group.

A sharp cry pierced the air: Gigi Darcy. Tears were streaming down her face, and she crumpled to the ground, her face in her hands. This sparked Lizzie’s attention, and her eyes scanned the crowd for the source of the noise, until finally landing on Gigi. The other children had made a circle around her; no one wanted to go near her, or comfort her. Lizzie felt strangely sorry for her: she’d lost the last member of family she had.

Out of the crowd emerged Lydia, who crouched next to Gigi. She whispered something in her ear, then tentatively reached out her hand to rub her back. Lizzie felt a rush of pride for her younger sister – the Bennets, Lydia and even Jane included, had never liked the Darcys that much to say the least, but despite that, Lydia wanted to comfort the girl.

Gigi’s cries settled down, and Dr. Gardiner cleared her throat before turning to the other Darcy. “Your name, please?” She asked.

“William Darcy.” He choked out.

“And you are 18 years old, correct?”

“Y-yes.”

“And may I ask why you volunteered for young Nancy?” Her voice was soft, and laced with what could be admiration.

When he didn’t respond, she continued. “Is he a family member?”

“No.” And that seemed to be all he had to say on the subject.

“Well then,” Gardiner said. “The tributes from District 12 for the 74th annual Hunger Games: Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. William Darcy!”

There was no applause.

“This concludes our Reaping.” Gardiner murmured. “You may all go back to your homes.”

Two Peacekeepers came, dragging Lizzie and Darcy through the curtains and backstage. They left them in a long hallway, standing just opposite of each other. Lizzie leaned against the wall, her back to Darcy.

She needed time to process this: the possibility, no, the _certainty_ that she was going to die in a matter of weeks. Only one person came out of the Hunger Games alive, and Lizzie was sure that it was not going to be her.

She was struck out of her thoughts by a hand on her elbow. She jerked her arm away immediately. Darcy looked confused, but returned his arms to his side. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” She spat. It wasn’t his fault that she was reaped. Why was he making this all about _him_?

“For... For having to be here, I suppose.” He dug his hands into his pockets and stared at the ground. Lizzie rolled her eyes.

“Because _I_ was reaped, whereas _you_ volunteered? “ She scoffed. “Because I won’t be here to supply you and your stupid family the food you don’t deserve?”

“What?” His eyes had snapped back up from the ground, they were boring into her own. “I-I never said...”

“Why did you volunteer for that boy, anyway?” Tears pricked here eyes, and she knew deep down that this wasn’t about Darcy; she was just letting her anger and panic about being reaped manifest itself into anger at him. But that didn’t stop her. “I mean, you don’t even _know_ him. You just volunteered to make yourself look like the hero that swoops in and saves the child from death.”

“No,” He glared at her, clenching his fists. “I volunteered because that boy is _twelve_. He shouldn’t have to participate in the Games.”

“Yeah, right.” She snorted, and was about to say something else when a Peacekeeper interrupted her.

“Visiting times begin shortly.” He told them both. “You may each have a maximum of 6.”

He grabbed Lizzie roughly by the arm, and led her to a room just down the hall. He opened the door to reveal a circular room, similar to that of a school nurse room. There was a table and chairs in one corner, and an old, grey rug on the floor. A flickering light was on the ceiling, casting a dim glow around the area. The only thing decorating the walls was a large family portrait of the DeBourghs – Catherine, now an old woman, was only young in the painting. Her sister (whose name was unknown to Lizzie) had a gentle smile on her face which was very unlike both her father and sibling. Catherine and her father wore matching smirks, and Catherine’s certainly hadn’t faded over the years.

“Your family is here.” The Peacekeeper said abruptly. He stepped to the side to allow them to come in. “You have 5 minutes. All conversation is recorded, and cameras are located in several parts of the room. Any suspicious behaviour will be documented and ceased.”

“Thank you.” Lizzie said curtly, before moving in to hug her family. Her mother was crying hysterically, unable to even look at Lizzie for a while. Lydia and Jane were shedding soft tears of their own, and her father’s hands were stuffed deep into his pockets.

“It’ll be okay.” Lizzie promised, though she knew it wouldn’t.

Jane nodded through her tears. Lizzie patted her on the back.

“You could win,” Lydia sniffed. “If you tried. I know you could.”

“I... I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try. I promise I’ll try.”

Mr. Bennet took Lizzie’s hand in his own, squeezing it as though he was afraid to let go. Lizzie turned to him, and spoke softly.

“Don’t put Lydia’s name in more than once for the next Games. It’s not worth it. And don’t let anyone get too sad. And make sure Mom doesn’t go crazy on everyone.” Her eyes were feverish, searching her father’s for his promise, his word.

“Of course.” He choked out.

Lizzie nodded to him and embraced her mother, who started to sob into her shoulder. “You try your best to win, Lizzie.” She said firmly. “You’re a good hunter – and you’re good with your words, too – don’t let anyone get you. You fight until you’re on your last breath then fight some more.”

“Thank you.” Lizzie stammered. This was the most serious her mother had been in a long time. “I will.”

Jane was last, and she placed her hands on Lizzie’s shoulders, looking straight into her eyes. “I’ll be 19 soon.” She said. “I’ll be out of school and out of the Games; I’ll be able to work more. I’ll get a proper stall on the market, and I’ll start sending designs to other Districts, too. I’ll make sure we all have enough not to starve.” Her face was grim, but, being Jane, she tried for a smile for her sister’s sake.

“10 seconds.” The Peacekeeper informed them through the door. “You must say your goodbyes now.”

Tears started to fall from Lizzie’s face as she hugged her family one last time, desperately hanging on until the last second was up and the Peacekeeper threatened to take them away by force.

“I love you!” She cried, just before the door slammed shut.

“One minute until your next visitor may arrive. He said he would rather see you alone.”

She flopped down into the chair, but it was too hard to provide any real comfort. Her thoughts were whirring, giving her a headache. With a pang, she realised that that was probably the last interaction she would ever have with her family. She wouldn’t see them ever again. She wouldn’t be able to hug her father, or roll her eyes affectionately at her mother whenever she was having an episode. She wouldn’t be able to stay up all night with Jane, confiding in her secrets that she wouldn’t dare tell anyone else, and she would never again be able to pull Lydia close during thunderstorms (she was always terrified of thunderstorms) and whisper into her hair that _it was going to be alright, everything was going to be fine._

She was struck out of her mind when the Peacekeeper once again opened the door and George stumbled in. Lizzie ran from her chair to hug him, and he spun her around. “Hey, peach.”

“Hey,” she managed to get out before his lips were crashing onto hers. This kiss wasn’t like any of the others they’d shared – it felt very different, as though it was fuelled by desperation rather than mutual desire. Despite this, she melted into the kiss as she was glad to have this as a distraction.

They broke apart only to gasp for air, before George leaned in once more. Lizzie turned away, but regretted it at the look on George’s face. She sighed, leaning up to cup his face.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that we only have 5 minutes together... I want to at least use _some_ of it talking.”

He grinned at her. “Actually...”

“What?” She cocked her head to one side.

“I talked the Peacekeeper out there into giving us 15 minutes instead of 5.”

“You – What... How?”

George just shrugged, smirking at her. “I’m good with people.”

“George!” She couldn’t figure out if she was laughing or crying, but none of that mattered right now. This was the last 15 minutes she was probably ever going to get with George Wickham, after all, so she was going to make the most of it. She pulled him into another searing kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and allowing him to back her up to the wall.

She pulled back only to whisper sultrily in his ear. “ _You look really good in a suit.”_ And then they were kissing again and she registered the fact that _this is about to happen_ and it’s not going to be anything like she’d imagined it. She thought dimly to herself that she was going to regret this later – _this was the last time she was ever going to see George, they should be talking, and she should probably tell him the name of whatever it is that she’d been feeling for him for months (not love, exactly, but was there another name for it?)_

His hands ran through her hair and something hard was pressing against her leg and she felt rather than heard her moan before it was swallowed by George’s mouth on hers. That gave him encouragement, and he smirked before trailing his fingers up the skirt of her dress.

She gasped, and George’s fingers continued their trek, slowly inching up to where she wanted them to be. He was pushing his tongue deeper into her mouth, and the hand not on her thigh was pressed against her head, pushing her in as close as she could be to him.

“George,” She whimpered as his fingers brushed the hem of her underwear. “George, we need to stop. We – _George –_ we can’t do this here.”

He either didn’t hear her or didn’t care (Lizzie hoped it was the former.)

His fingers brushed against her core, eliciting a loud moan from her that she was sure anyone standing remotely near their room could hear.

Once she was able to be in control of her own actions again, she wrenched his hand away from her. He frowned, hurt by her rejection.

“Lizzie, this is the last time we’re ever going to see each other.” He reminded her, and a small part of Lizzie was offended that he didn’t even consider the possibility of her winning the Games. She did her best to shrug it off.

“I know, I know.” She sighed, frustrated, and sat heavily in her chair. “It’s just that I can’t do this here. There’s Peacekeepers watching, and this is probably one of my last days of life, and...” She trailed off helplessly, looking (albeit vainly) for some sympathy.

A long moment passed before George broke the silence. “Hey, I’m sorry you’re stuck with Darcy.”

It wasn’t the response Lizzie was hoping for, but she guessed that wasn’t going to happen anyway. “Yeah.” She muttered dully.

“I mean, he’s an awful guy.”

“I know.”

“And I wouldn’t put murder past him if it meant he’d get to win the Games.”

Lizzie looked up at him, suddenly annoyed. He was her _boyfriend_ , after all, he was supposed to be distracting her from all this and (at least) trying to help her get through it. She didn’t want to think about Darcy right now. She definitely didn’t want to think about the possibility that he would kill her in order to achieve the glory of winning the Hunger Games.

Her look seemed to convey _something_ to him, so he stopped talking about Darcy and instead bent down, kneeling on the floor in front of her before clasping her hands in his.  Lizzie looked up from the floor, but did not allow herself to look into his eyes.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He told her. It was laced with that tone of his – the one he used whenever he tried to sweet-talk people in the market into buying extra plates of his meat. It was the tone he’d used on her when they first met, when he’d asked her if she would mind his staying and even hunting in her part of the woods, and she’d accepted.

It was his tone that made her suspect that what he was saying was not sincere. _But it’s probably nothing,_ she convinced herself.

“I hope so.”

George leaned in for a hug, and one last lingering kiss. He then checked the watch on his right wrist. “That’s been 15 minutes, I’m afraid, peach. I guess I’ll have to get going, wouldn’t want a Peacekeeper to throw me out like it did with your family.”

His comment stung a little, but she repressed the feeling and kissed him once more, gently. Then he turned away from her and strode towards the door.

“Goodbye, peach.” And Lizzie wanted to scream _it’s not goodbye, I really don’t want to think of this as goodbye right now_ but he was gone. She returned to her chair.

A Peacekeeper came in a few minutes later. “Is Mr. Wickham still here?” He asked gruffly.

“No, he’s already left. He wanted to leave sharp so he wouldn’t bother you.”

“Very sharp.” The Peacekeeper observed in his monotone voice. “He left 4 minutes early.”

 _What?_ Lizzie thought. _Why would he leave early? Why would he tell me that he wasn’t leaving early?_

“You have 1 minute until your next visitor arrives. And 5 minutes of interaction.”

“Wait, next visitor? I can’t think of anyone else who’d want to see me. Are you su-“

The Peacekeeper left the room, slamming the door shut.

George had left early. And he’d told her that he was leaving on time. Why would he do that? He was always saying that he wanted to spend as much time with her as possible, and now, all of a sudden, he only wished to spend little time with her?

The door creaked open again, and Lizzie’s attention snapped over to her new visitor. The Peacekeeper entered first, then Gigi Darcy followed him.

“You have 5 minutes.” The Peacekeeper said shortly, then left the room as quickly as he came in.

“Um... Hi?” Lizzie started, cautiously.

“Hi.” Gigi replied. Her voice was hoarse, probably from her screams when her brother volunteered. Her eyes were red and puffy, with tear streaks down her cheeks.

There was a long moment of silence, neither of the girls knowing what to say.

Eventually, Lizzie piped up. “Is there anything you wanted, or...?”

“Oh! Yes, actually. I, uh, wanted to ask you something.” She began to fidget with a small thread on her sleeve.

“And that is...?” Lizzie prompted.

“It’s about my brother.”

“Gigi, I can’t promise to protect him in the Games.”

“I know! I’m not asking for that. I just, I need you to make sure he doesn’t get caught up. In the arena, I mean.”

“What do you mean?” Lizzie asked, curiously. She couldn’t imagine Darcy getting ‘caught up’ in anything other than himself.

“You know what the Games does to people. I don’t want him to change, become one of the tributes who stop at nothing to win.”

“Gigi, I can’t-“ But Lizzie stopped at the look on the other girl’s face. She suddenly realised that this girl had just lost everything. Her brother was the only family member anyone knew of, and he’d just volunteered for (almost) certain death. And yes, Darcy was arrogant, snobby, and unkind, but it was a known fact that he took care of his sister. He’d practically raised her after their father died and mother disappeared.

So Lizzie took pity on her. “I’ll try.” She conceded, “but I can’t promise that he won’t change.”

“Thank you.” Gigi said softly, and smiled at Lizzie, who found herself smiling back to her.

“I’m sorry, by the way.” Lizzie added. “About your brother volunteering.” And she really was.

“It’s fine...” She sighed. “Or, it’s not. I don’t know. William always looked after each other, and now that he’s gone...” She shook her head. “He’s not gone. There’s always a chance he’ll win.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Gigi seemed like she was about to say something else, but a Peacekeeper opened the door and asked her to leave.

“I’ll... See you around, Lizzie Bennet.” Gigi said, and then she hugged her. It took Lizzie completely by surprise. She barely knew the girl, after all. But she awkwardly hugged back, and waved her goodbye when she left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter should be up soon! I've tentatively made it 30 chapters, as that's what I've outlined it for, but it keeps changing so it's not official yet.


	5. Chapter 5

The Peacekeeper came in a few minutes later. He explained that both tributes were to wait in the hall until further notice, and that, as per usual, their interaction (or lack thereof) would be closely monitored and any suspicious behaviour would be ‘forcibly terminated.’

Darcy was waiting for her outside her door. Lizzie chose to ignore him, and stood as far away from him as possible. Her head was still spinning from her talk with Gigi. She’d never liked the girl before, but their talk showed her that she wasn’t so bad after all. She really cared for her brother.

She watched Darcy out the corner of her eye. He’d settled against the wall. His expression was unreadable, but there were tell-tale tear stains down his cheeks. Strangely, Lizzie felt sorry for him. He was probably just starting to see the consequences of his volunteering for that boy.

Just then, two Peacekeepers marched round the corner, gun in hand as though expecting a fight. They stopped to stand about a metre away from Lizzie, and addressed her and Darcy: “The train awaits. You will come with us. If there is any trouble, we reserve the right to use force to get you to comply.”

Usually, Lizzie would have had to bite back a sarcastic comment, but at present all she could think of was how she had to get to this train with as little trouble as possible.

The Peacekeepers parted and stood to the side to allow Lizzie and Darcy to walk past them. Darcy’s hand brushed hers, and although she usually would have recoiled, at present she couldn’t care less. All her thoughts were on what was going to happen next.

Lizzie knew that, once she got on that train, there was no going back. (Dimly, she realised that there was never any “going-back” in the first place – she was reaped, therefore she was going to be in the Games.)

Before she knew it, she was standing outside, before the giant silver hover-train. Darcy had settled behind her, twisting his hands together nervously. The Peacekeepers stood at either side of the door to the train, presumably waiting on another set of Peacekeepers to “monitor” them for the train journey to the Capitol.

Her family’s words echoed in her mind. _“You try your best to win, Lizzie.” “You could win.” “I’ll make sure we have enough...”_

Inevitably, she wound up thinking about Gigi again. She was so young, yet had lost so much. Her parents first, and then the older brother who had acted like a father to her for the past 4 years. Gigi was nothing like her brother; she was a child, whereas Darcy was born a senior citizen.

The next two Peacekeepers arrived, the first one taking Lizzie by the arm. He dragged her onto the train, through a couple of doors, and into the main dining area. Once he finally let her go, he nodded curtly, then left. Darcy wasn’t far behind. He looked around helplessly, and then sat down in a nearby armchair (that probably cost more than what Lizzie’s family combined earned in a year). Even sitting, his back was ram-rod straight, his shoulders back, his head held high. In a way, Lizzie envied him.

Lizzie floundered for a moment, then sank down into a chair as far away from him as possible. She even gone as far to deliberately angle her body away from him. She certainly wasn’t in the mood to talk right now, least of all to him. Their mentors were to arrive any minute, and then it would be time to eat.

“Lizzie, I-“ Darcy started, but was interrupted by the loud entrance of a man. There was a much shorter woman trailing behind him, much less loud than her companion.

Darcy immediately stood. Lizzie rolled her eyes at the gesture, but stood too, just in case she got on the bad side of any of her mentors.

The man came to a stop in front of him, running a hand through his hair and rolling forward on the balls of his feet.

“Elizabeth Bennet, I presume?” He said. It was intended as a joke, Lizzie knew, to break the ice somewhat, but she didn’t laugh. He wasn’t there to be her friend. He was simply there to train her, and promote her, and just help her not to die in general. She nodded curtly, not looking him in the eye.

“And Mr. William Darcy, yes?”

To her surprise, Darcy broke into a full grin. He shook the man’s proffered hand eagerly. “Fitz Williams. It’s been a long time.”

“Too long, Darcy, too long.” Fitz agreed, laughing.

Their sense of acquaintance both shocked and intrigued Lizzie. They talked as though they were old friends, but Darcy didn’t _have_ any friends, right?

“Excuse me?” The shorter woman piped up, clearing her throat.

“Ah, yes, how could I forget?” Fitz gestured to his companion. “The amazing Charlotte Lu, at your service. For now, at least.”

Charlotte side-eyed him, pursing her lips. She then addressed Lizzie, whose surprise at the exchange must have shown on her face. “I hope Fitz didn’t overwhelm you? He tends to be rather... Exuberant, sometimes.”

“It’s fine.” Lizzie said. And it really was: despite his weird bromance with Darcy, from the little time she’d spent with him thus far she was kind of starting to like him. And Charlotte, too, who came without the noise and excitement, but had a certain sense of easiness with her that Lizzie immediately took a liking to.

“Good.” Charlotte responded, and Lizzie knew that she meant it.

“Anyways... Moving on!” Fitz interrupted the silence, straying away from Dacry to stand in the middle of the room. “It goes without saying, I guess, that Ms. Lu and I are your mentors. We will train you, and gain sponsors for you whilst you’re in the arena.”

“However,” Charlotte cut in, “that doesn’t mean that we do all the work _for_ you. It is still your responsibility to perform well on camera; make the people like you.”

_That certainly won’t be easy for Darcy,_ Lizzie thought. Darcy seemed to be thinking the same thing, as he shifted uncomfortably.

“...Well, I think that’s it, then!” Charlotte finished. She flashed Lizzie and Darcy a smile.

“Darcy, do you want me to show you to your room?” Fitz asked, half-smiling at his acquaintance.

“Certainly. We need to catch up. I haven’t seen you in years.” Darcy replied. He followed Fitz through the door and down a long corridor. Charlotte peered over Lizzie’s head, watching them, as though waiting until they were gone.

Once they were out of sight, she turned to her. “So! Lizzie Bennet...” She began, shaking her head. Her tone suddenly became more real, less chipper. “I am so sorry you got reaped.”

Lizzie looked down, concentrating on flexing her foot in front of her. Charlotte waited patiently for her to respond.

“Thank you.” She said finally. “I was thinking you’d just congratulate me.”

“Never.” Charlotte replied fiercely. Lizzie remembered that Charlotte was once in the Games herself, many years ago, and that she would probably understand what it was like to be reaped. She shot her a smile that she hoped looked genuine to convey her thoughts.

“I’m... Guessing you don’t have the best relationship with William Darcy?” Charlotte asked hesitantly.

“How did you know?” Lizzie decided not to deny it. Even if she hadn’t known now, she would have found out eventually.

“It’s kinda obvious,” Charlotte laughed, “you always seem to be glaring at him, and he never looks you in the eye.”

“Ugh, I don’t know.” Lizzie sighed exasperatedly and leaned back in her chair. “It’s just like, he always acts like he’d better than everyone, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Charlotte said, nodding. Lizzie was glad she had Charlotte Lu as her mentor. She made this whole _thing_ less scary, less overwhelming.  

“Anyway,” Charlotte checked her watch. “Do you want me to show you to your room? That way, you’ll have about a half hour to get ready before dinner.”

“Sure.” Lizzie agreed. She managed a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update! I have no idea when the next chapter will be posted, but stay tuned! :))

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is happening.


End file.
